Grandma Johnson was born in Sweden in 1899. The morning of her birth her mother sent her son to get the mid-wife to come help, but she was busy elsewhere so my great-grandmother gave birth to her last daughter all alone, with only her small son at home. She was one tough, stubborn swede, and her little girl grew up to be another.
Grandma Johnson came to America with her parents when she was 19. She lived through the depression, the death of her husband, and 39 years of widowhood. Despite heart problems, broken arms and hips, osteoporosis, a life threatening car accident, and all sorts of other problems, she still celebrated her one hundredth birthday in 1999, only to pass on two months later, in January, 2000.
That morning a hospice nurse came to check up on grandma. She told the family that it wouldn't be long. That afternoon the nurse returned, helped with grandma's bath, and got her into a clean nightgown. Mother sat by her side and began to brush out grandma's hair, and then she slipped away.
Later that evening mom told me it was just like grandma.
“She never went anywhere in her life without first getting cleaned up and fixing her hair,” mother said. “So of course she waited until the nurse came and she got all ready before she left to go to heaven.”
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